Please Don't Eat The Daisies
by WolfieJimi
Summary: Captain Kirk gets poisoned after consuming some highly intoxicating alien plant life. Inspired, albeit kind of loosely, by the Doris Day song "Please Don't Eat The Daisies". I love that darn song.
1. In which our hero passes out

_AN: Italics within quotation marks represent the thoughts of whoever's POV the current chapter is following._

 **MCCOY**

" _Goddamnit Jim, what have you gotten yourself into this time…_ "

Spock had just commed through to the transporter room and sickbay with an emergency request for transportation and medical backup for the landing party. His _definitely not panicking it is logical to speak quickly in an emergency_ message, stated that the Captain had accepted the offer of a drink from some local dignitary. He had subsequently collapsed approximately 7.64 seconds later. Spock also managed to report that the Captain's heart rate was slightly lower than usual (" _Of course he knows what Jim's 'usual' heart rate is…_ "), and that his breathing was similarly slow, although not laboured. The Captain was not displaying signs of pain or distress, but was falling in and out of consciousness.

This planet had been visited by the Federation before, and the medical records from previous trips had warned, in slightly less colourful language than Mccoy was about to berate his caution-averse Captain, not to eat any of the goddamned food.

"I warned him, Christine, you heard me warn him, not two hours ago. 'Don't eat any of the food, Jim, the plant life on the planet has a toxic effect on most humanoids.' I _told_ him, damnit! , I said, 'Now whilst the effects aren't fully documented, I do not intend on supplementin' those documents with a report on how the Captain of the Federation's Flagship got himself damn near incapacitated, or worse, by some damned flowers'. I _told_ him, ' _Don't eat any of the damned food'_. But does he listen? Does he my eye. Now look what he's gone and gotten himself into. Another fine mess for me to sort out."

Mccoy's muttered grumblings, more under his breath than to his long suffering head Nurse, dissipated as the transporter room doors swished open. First Officer Spock, ever stoic (" _Ha!"_ ), was standing on the transporter pad, the incapacitated Captain protectively cradled in his arms. Said First Officer's face, Mccoy noted, was wearing that particular drawn expression reserved for those times when the Captain was injured, endangered, or in any way not his usual sunshine-y self.

Kirk stirred, whimpered quietly, and attempted to lift his head. "Spock?" He mumbled, voice slurred, "Wher'm'I? Wh'r's Spock…"

Spock tightened his grip, and Mccoy noticed him gently squeezing and releasing Jim's arm, in a manner not dissimilar to the way a cat pushes its paws into the person it'd taken a particular shine to. Said Captain to whom this particular Vulcan had taken a shine, it should be noted, currently had his arms draped around that same Vulcan's neck. His head was resting on a blue-uniformed shoulder, dishevelled hair brushing up against the the Enterprise's First Officer's drawn cheek.

"I am here, Jim."

He spoke softly, barely audible over the hurried bustle of the med techs setting up the stretcher. Unless of course you were paying close attention to the pair, as Mccoy always was. The Captain's head moved in a small nod, before dropping back to a position of easy rest in his friend's arms. Loathe as he was to pay any compliment to Spock, Mccoy had to admit (at least to himself, anyway), their First Officer had an excellent bedside manner. Especially when it came to Jim.

"What have you done to yourself this time?" Mccoy shook his head as he carefully helped remove the Captain from his distraught friend's arms and onto a stretcher. Spock's anxious puppy-dog stare implored Mccoy to answer a thousand unasked questions, all centred on the general theme: "Please can you please fix my Captain now please?"

Mccoy ran a scanner over Kirk, and frowned. "He's in and out of consciousness. I could give him a hypo to knock him out or wake him up, but I don't wanna be pumpin' him full'a anything until I know for certain what it is that's already in his system. Sometimes the reaction with medication can be worse than the toxin itself. Spock, did you you bring up a sample of what he ate?"

Spock nodded, and removed a vial from his TriCorder bag. It contained a swirling, oily looking liquid of black and orange, with flecks (" _seeds?"_ Mccoy wondered,) of a worryingly luminous green. There was a small white flower sitting daintily on the top.

Mccoy eyed it dubiously.

"You're telling me he _drank_ that witches' brew?!"

"Yes. He also ate one of the flowers, although apparently they were only intended as decoration or garnish and not for -"

"Now why in the hell would he do a thing like that!?"

"I believe the Captain was unaware that the plant was only placed in the drink for aesthetic purposes, and so -"

The Doctor rolled his eyes and held up his hands in a shushing gesture.

"Spock, I didn't actually want an answer." He gestured to a medical technician and ordered her to take the ominous looking liquid straight down to the med labs for analysis. As she darted off, Mccoy ran his scanner again over the semi-conscious Captain.

"His vitals are all functioning, no internal damage that I can pick up on. Heart rate and breathing are on a little on the low side, but no less than you would see during a particularly deep sleep. For the present I'd say he is in no immediate danger. We can certainly move him to sick bay safely, get him rested up, and assess the damage from there." Mccoy glanced up at Spock, still hovering annoyingly close, "So don't you be frettin' your pointed ears about it."

Spock's retort along the lines of "Vulcans do not 'fret' and even if they did, it would not be via their ears" reassured Mccoy that his medical assessment was understood and accepted. " _When the hobgoblin starts arguin' back, you know he has stopped freaking out"_. The doctor sighed at the semi-conscious Captain. " _At least someone listens to my medical expertise…"_


	2. In which our hero wakes up

**KIRK**

Everything was blurry. Everything sounded like it was under water. Or... not underwater, not exactly. Not _only_ underwater. Like _most_ of everything was underwater, but some things were in tunnels, or air pockets, or clang-y, echo-y metal box things. He couldn't hear what Mccoy was saying to him, but the sound of Nurse Chapel placing a metal tray on the table across the other side of the room rang in his ears like a particularly discordant concerto. He slammed his hands over his ears to block the sound. Or… He tried to. His arms didn't seem to be listening to him any more. And for some reason that was really, really funny.

Captain Kirk dissolved into a fit of weak giggles.

He had now been back on the ship for approximately three hours, not that the Captain himself was cognizant of that fact. Or, honestly, of very much at all. He couldn't really remember what had happened, not clearly. His thoughts were all jumbled, muddled, confused; but nevertheless, still very rapid and persistent.

" _What happened? I don't… I think… I… beamed down to the planet. It was really... pretty … planet. So... flowery... I like flowers. They should have... more flowers on the ship. Am I back on the ship? Am I on the Bridge? It's... Alpha shift! I should be on the Bridge! Or... is it Delta? How long have I been here? I thought I was in the place. The... flower place. The place with the flowers. Not the ship flower place. Garden. Garden? Bo... Ta...Botany labs. No… That place doesn't have flowers that make me… uh... Fall down? I think I must have just... fallen down. Must have been an… enemy… flower…? Attacking me. But I guess I attacked it… Is eating attacking? It's not good, is it? Probally bad to eat flowers. 'Specially pretty flowers. Maybe I… shouldn't have eaten it. It looked like a… a… a daisy! All white and yellow and... cute. Probally shouldn't eat daisies... But it was a diplolo-...dipolo... dip-lo-ma-tic crisis… I bet the Klingon ambassador didn't..."_

Kirk's complexion suddenly paled as he remembered the Klingon ambassadors who were also currently on the planet for negotiations. He was vaguely aware that Mccoy was still trying to talk to him, but he had more important things to consider than trying to hear him through the white noise that was surrounding him. He caught the odd word, here and there; "understand what-", "don't worry ab-", "hear me", "No we ca-", "stop", "Nurse get", "Damnit, Jim!"

" _This is bad… I might've wrecked... everything! I need to… I need to go back! I need to speak with the Dja-… the Tsier-… the alien ambassador! I need…"_

Vision still swimming and swirling and swaying and other sw- sounds, Jim suddenly felt very dizzy. His body keeled to the side. When did he sit up? Why were his feet cold? Was that the floor? Jim found himself beginning to panic. His head began to throb, and his breathing grew rapid and shallow. " _Not good. Not good. Not in control. The ship… in danger? Where's Spock, I need Spock. I can't feel my hands. I need…_ "

Kirk then became aware of two firm and familiar hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him back onto the bed. He did not resist the motion. Finding his head once more supported by the squishy, orange pillow of his sickbed, Kirk blinked slowly and tried to regain control over himself and his surroundings. Slowly, shakily, he raised his eyes to look up at owner of the hands keeping him in place. Jim found himself looking up into a halo of gold and silver, surrounding glossy black hair, perfectly pointed ears, and the biggest, shiniest, dearest eyes he had ever seen.

"Spock!" Jim stared up at his friend, wide eyed. His face dissolved into a warm smile for a moment, happiness at seeing his friend superseding all else. Then he remembered the imminent diplomatic catastrophe he believed he had caused. His expression grew deathly serious.

"Spock, Klingons don't eat daisies!"

The Vulcan raised a single eyebrow, and shot a worried glance to Mccoy.

"Spock, no, Spock don't do the eyebrow thing. It _is_ cute, but I need you to _listen_. I don't… Starfleet needs me to make friends with the Tajai… the Dashiri… argh, you know, the.. pink and purple ones... with all the legs! The _Klingons_ , Spock, they don't eat daisies! I ate the _DAISIES_ , SPOCK!"

Spock's turned to the doctor, looking for all the word like a deer in headlights. Mccoy turned his palms up and shook his head.

"What do you want me to do, Spock? I can't give him anything, it will only make the situation worse, you know that." He waved his hands towards Spock and Jim, in a gesture clearly intended to say " _you_ do something about it".

Spock paused and took a breath, before moving closer to his distressed Captain, and speaking slowly and calmly to him.

"Captain. The Tsjaridian diplomat has assured me that they do not look badly upon you for consuming the, as you put it, daisy, nor for your subsequent debilitation. They took it, in fact, as evidence of your good will and trust in their people. They are grievously apologetic for the affect which this has had upon you, and have assured us that the diplomatic talks may continue once you are fully recovered."

Whilst Spock's steady voice had calmed him, Jim had failed to understand what his First Officer was actually saying. Multiple-clause sentences were still proving problematic. As were sounds generally. He looked up at Spock, his usually bright and bold face instead a picture of confusion and vulnerability.

Spock's eyebrows drew together for a moment, and he exhaled softly. Then the Vulcan gazed down at him, and smiled that particular smile which was somehow imperceptible to the rest of the world, despite, to Jim, being the most vibrant, sincere smile in the entire universe. It was the smile that only the Captain was ever permitted to see.

"Do not worry, Jim. I will not allow anything bad to happen."

Jim looked up at Spock, eyes full of starshine and affection, and shot up that particular smile which was somehow as weak and vulnerable as a sleepy kitten, and as powerful and bright as a thousand suns. It was the smile that only Spock ever seemed to receive.

" _How could I be afraid... when Spock is here? Spock won't let anything happen. I can... trust … Spock. Spock says it's okay, so... it must be...okay... What did I ever do… to deserve... such a… First Officer? Such a… friend? "_

With that, Kirk's eyes began to close, and he drifted into a restless, but happy sleep.


	3. In which our hero finally falls asleep

**SPOCK**

Mccoy raised his eyebrows, and took a deep breath. He bobbed his head in Spock's direction.

"Expertly done."

Spock cleared his throat and seemed to suddenly find the medical instruments to his left most fascinating. Mccoy rolled his eyes without malice, and continued,

"Well, at least he has settled down now. Lord knows the quieter we can keep him, the easier the fallout when he finally snaps out of this. But we shouldn't let him sleep for too long. The shock to his physical and mental processes won't be pleasant when he wakes up, if we let him fall into a deep sleep."

Spock added, "The Tsjaridians also stated that deep sleep would only prolong the effects of the drug."

The Doctor and the First Officer stared at each other, and then at the finally peaceful Jim. They had, so far, endured 3 hours of nonstop giggling, rambling, complaining, and futile escape attempts. And worse, they had endured it by themselves, with only Nurse Chapel to assist. They were trying to minimise the crew's exposure to the Captain, for obvious reasons.

" _If the Tsjaridians estimates were accurate, we will have only another 21 - 23 hours remaining until the effects of the toxins wear off. 21 hours..."_ Spock's jaw tensed and he glanced at Mccoy.

They both snuck, _very quietly_ , into the Doctor's office.

As the door closed, Spock allowed himself the luxury of sighing, and briefly closing his eyes. It had been, to coin a phrase from the good Doctor, a long day.

"I know it seems bad, but don't worry about him too much, Spock. The tests all came back fine, and nothing in the stuff will have any long term harmful effects on the human body. He's just gonna be a bit, well..." Mccoy rubbed the side of his neck and grimaced, "for want of a better word, spaced out, for about 24 hours. Then he'll be right as rain. Unless he remembers any of this, in which case he'll probably be a mite embarrassed." Mccoy laughed softly and with empathy at the prospect. "But no real harm done. You can stop hovering over him so much."

Spock tried hard to not roll his eyes, instead compromising his human and Vulcan halves by staring fixedly, with a modicum of annoyance, at the wall to the side of Mccoy's head.

"Doctor, I am quite aware of the results of the tests. If your memory is so poor that you cannot remember that I in fact reported those results to you two hours and 14 minutes ago, then I would recommend you have Nurse Chapel run a series of tests in order to check that you are still fit for duty."

Mccoy scowled and threw himself into his chair.

"Goddamnit Spock, I'm tryin'ta reassure you. Can't you ever just smile and nod, maybe say 'Gee, thanks Bones, you've done a wonderful job in handling this ridiculous situation and in not strangling my absolutely incorrigible friend, even though he'd deserve it if you did, for being such a _damned fool'_!" Mccoy punctuated his last sentence by slamming a PADD on the desk in front of him.

Spock stared at the ceiling and silently recited multiplications during this emotional outburst.

"Irrational emotional outbursts are not necessary, doctor..."

Mccoy glared up at the Vulcan. He opened his mouth to interrupt, but Spock had no intention of pausing.

"... as we find ourselves in agreement. Your assessment of your performance thus far is accurate, and I would be remiss to disagree. You have managed this situation efficiently, calmly and competently. A lesser physician, and indeed, a lesser person, would not have handled the Captain with the composure and compassion which you invariably display. If I do not appear appreciative of your efforts, it is only because experience demands I expect no less of you."

Mccoy frowned. Then scoffed. Then sighed. He leaned back in his chair.

"Well damn it, Spock, can't you even let a fella be mad at you for a while? It's cathartic."

He laughed, and Spock raised an eyebrow. Illogical and overemotional though he often was, Mccoy truly was an excellent doctor, and a good friend to the Captain. And, although Spock would _never_ admit it, he was a good friend to him, too. An _insufferably annoying_ friend, true. But a friend nonetheless.

The rare friendly moment between the two officers was sharply shattered by a clash and a clatter from the general vicinity of the main ward.

"Oh for the love of… Can't I get five minutes peace?"

As Mccoy made to stand up, Spock gestured to him to stay put, and instead headed toward the door himself.

"My presence should be sufficient, Doctor. You need the rest more than I do. You are, of course, only human."

Spock swept out of the room before Mccoy could argue.


	4. In which our hero falls down

**CHAPEL**

Leonard and Mister Spock had barely left the room for 5 minutes when the Captain began to rouse himself once more. Christine had read the toxicology reports, and so was not surprised by this. The tests (" _carried out so efficiently by Mister Spock…"_ ) had revealed that the drink the Captain had consumed on the planet somehow had managed to act simultaneously as a stimulant and a depressant.

This meant that whilst the Captain's complex thought processes, reactions to external stimuli, and neuromotor movements were significantly slowed, his brain wave patterns had displayed hyperstimulation in certain areas, resulting in an inability to keep still and, evidently, a barrage of ideas, anxieties, and curious questions to be constantly bouncing around in his mind. Among other symptoms.

Christine felt desperately sorry for Captain Kirk. Her natural empathy made her a veritable fount of patience, understanding, and calm. She truly was an excellent medical practitioner. As such, she felt she could handle this herself. " _No need to disturb Leonard and Spock_..." she thought to herself. They had suffered the brunt of the Captain's incapacitation over the past few hours, and could doubtless do with the rest, however brief it proved to be.

Secretly, Christine was also pleased whenever Mister Spock and Doctor Mccoy worked together and got along. It was a rare and beautiful thing to behold, and she certainly didn't want to interrupt their current amicability. Leonard had come to be one of her closest friends, and Spock… She sighed. " _And Spock."_ " Well. In any case, she could handle the Captain, for now. " _Let the boys rest."_

"Hello there, Captain", she said brightly, with a smile. "You certainly didn't need to rest for too long now, did you?"

She made her way over to the bed, and gently straightened the blankets whilst covertly assessing the Captain's current status.

The Captain's head followed his gaze as he glanced around the room anxiously.

"Where am I? What… I don't… Why am I in … the sick bay? I … I should be on the Bridge, I…"

"Now, now, don't you worry about all that. You have had quite the shock to the system. You need to rest, now. Don't worry about a thing, Doctor Mccoy and Mister Spock have everything under control. You just worry about getting yourself better!"

The Captain's eyes lit up, and he tilted his head like a curious puppy.

"Spock? Is Spock here? Why isn't he on the ship? Has he come to visit me?"

Christine's mouth quirked involuntarily into an amused, affectionate smile that contained just the barest hint of heartsick resignation. " _How could I ever compete with that?"_

"Mister Spock is on the ship, Captain, as are you. You are in the sick bay, remember?"

"The… sick bay? Of course. Of course. I remember." His unsteady tone belied his confident words. "I… I think…" Sitting up, he shook his head, as if he were trying to knock away the cobwebs and confusion. He straightened out his posture, looking for all the world like he was in formal uniform on the bridge, instead of in a medical gown, laying in sick bay.

"Nurse. Thank you for your assistance, but I am quite well now. If you will excuse me…"

Before she could stop him, the Captain was on his feet and walking towards the door. As convinced as he was that he was well, the Captain was still far from it. He managed only three steps before he began to sway precariously. He lurched sideways, and grabbed at a medical trolley for support, in the process scattering the metallic contents onto the floor with an almighty crash.

The loud noise had a catastrophic effect on the Captain.

" _Emotional and auditory shocks to the nervous system causing blood pressure to drop, circulation of blood flow to the brain decreasing, vascular syncope possible, likely, imminent… He's passing out."_

Whilst her mind raced, mentally documenting her real-time diagnosis, Christine found herself frozen to the spot. Time rushed past. She felt as though she was watching in slow motion as the Captain's face paled. His eyes lost focus, and he swayed on his feet, before pitching forwards like a sack of bricks. She darted forward, too late.


	5. In which our hero tries to forget

**KIRK**

The edges of the room started going dark. He could hear the ocean. The floor seemed to be getting closer.

" _Oh dear."_

Closing his eyes, in part to avoid having to watch himself smack into the floor, and in part because his eyelids suddenly felt like elephants were using them as hammocks, Jim mentally braced himself for the thud. Time moved slowly. He waited. He waited some more. He… kept waiting...

" _It definitely shouldn't take that long to hit the floor. Even if time is going all wonky."_

Kirk cautiously opened one eye. Everything was blue.

" _Maybe that really is the ocean I can hear..."_

He opened his other eye, and awkwardly shifted his head back, and looked up.

"Captain, I believe Doctor Mccoy gave you strict orders to remain in bed."

A raised eyebrow and a gently admonishing expression looked down at Jim from above.

Already half-collapsed in Spock's arms, Jim now collapsed further into yet another fit of poorly restrained, if weak, giggles.

"Spock! Where'd'you come from? How are you always there when I need you, no matter what? Isn't that weird? You're like my… my… whatsitcalled. Guardian thingy. Guardian… Guardian _Vulcan_!"

The giggling increased as an exacerbated Guardian Vulcan hefted his Captain gracelessly up into a somewhat more secure position in his arms. Soon realising that Jim was either unable or uninclined to move under his own volition, Spock ended up half carrying, half dragging the Captain back to his bed.

Once placed back onto the bed, again, Jim finally let his childish laughter fade away. As Spock fussed at repositioning pillows, and ensuring the blankets fully covered his Captain, Jim found himself feeling guilty and unhappy. For the trouble he had been causing today, and for… Well.

" _What is wrong with me?"_ He thought. " _Why can't I just… just… ugh. I don't feel good."_

Mccoy appeared out of nowhere, and started cussing and complaining and berating Kirk for his obstinate determination to do exactly the opposite of whatever the doctor ordered, and no wonder he didn't feel very damn good if he constantly does whatever he's told not to. Jim stopped paying attention to him.

" _Damn flower. Endless problems, flowers. That flower nearly killed Spock, that one time. And those flowers on that planet that made everyone go crazy... Made Spock leave me for that… That blonde… I didn't like her. Didn't trust her. Never trust a girl who drugs your friend with stupid weird flowers to make him love her. That's a big no no. So why do I even like flowers? I hate flowers. Stupid, stupid flowers. Even pretty little daisies can be deadly. Look at me, acting like an idiot, can't even stand up on my own. I hate flowers."_

"Ouch! Bones, quit it!" Kirk squealed, as Mccoy roughly manhandled him in an attempt to stop the Captain from sitting back up again.

"Well lie the hell down and be quiet when I ask you to, and I won't have to try an' push you around, will I?!"

Jim scowled at him and threw his head down onto the pillow. He saw Spock shoot a disapproving glance at Mccoy. Jim huffed and stared pointedly at the wall instead of his friends.

" _And now Spock is going to hate me. And who could blame him. I'm acting like a fool. I don't want to. I can't help it. It's that damn flower and that horrible drink that didn't even taste that nice. It was too nutmeg-y. Yuck. Spock wouldn't have drunk the stupid drink. And even if he did, I bet he wouldn't react like this. Some stupid daisy wouldn't make Spock so crazy. Even those spores didn't make him that weird, just happy…_

 _I wish I could tell him I'm sorry. I wish I could tell him... Ugh, but I can't even say it in my own head. How could I ever say it to him? Why is that so hard to say 'Hey Spock, I think you are awesome, and adorable, and actually perfect. You are the single best thing in the entire universe, and by the way, I love you so much it makes me feel like I'm going to burst into a billion pieces.' Why is that so hard to say?_

 _I tell Bones he's great all the time. He is great. Does he know that I really mean that, though? I should tell him again. And tell him that he is kind, and good, and so much braver than he knows, and that he has saved my life more times than I can count, and not just by fixing me up when I'm injured. And... that he's come to be a sort of… a sort of father-figure to me... Although I probably shouldn't tell him that. He'll think I'm making a crack about his age and his grouchiness. And he'll think it's weird. It is a bit weird._

 _Ugh. I've been a grade-A jerk to Bones. An illogical mess in front of Spock. They are my best friends and I've been driving them crazy and now they will hate me. All because I'm a big, tripped-out idiot who gets high on stupid daisies."_

Kirk sniffed pathetically and closed his eyes in the hope that no one would see that they were shiny with threatening tears.

"Captain, please, try not to agitate yourself. I can assure you, I do not 'hate you', as you so bluntly put it, and neither, I suspect, does Doctor Mccoy. You have fallen victim to poisoning whilst attempting to reconcile an extremely delicate political and diplomatic situation. You have made remarkable strides in redeeming the Federation in the eyes of the Tsjaridians in the process. You cannot be blamed for your incapacitation, although you can be praised and admired for the reasons which led to its occurrence."

Without opening his eyes, Kirk smiled, softly.

" _Spock, what did I ever do to deserve you? You always know exactly what to say. It's like you can read my…"_

Jim stopped smiling.

" _Wait. What? Did … Spock…? Can you… read my thoughts? I thought you had to be touching my head or something to do that. Like we did that… those… all of those… times… What is happening?!"_

Jim's anxious, confused eyes darted back and forth between Spock and Mccoy. Bones had his hand over his face and was choking back laughter laced with pity and frustration. Spock's mouth hung slightly open, as he searched for the most appropriate way to break the news.

"Captain… I… am not reading your thoughts…" He paused, staring at Mccoy, silently imploring him for assistance.

"What Spock here is tryin' to say,' is that if he can read your thoughts, then so can I, and so can Nurse Chapel, and so can anyone within listenin' distance of you."

"I… don't understand."

"Jim, you've been talkin' non-stop for the past three and a half hours. Every flyin' fancy that's come into your head. You've been drivin' us all crazy."

Jim swallowed.

"You mean…"

"Yes, I mean!"

Bones rolled his eyes and shook his head. He tried to suppress an affectionate grin, but failed, utterly.

"I… was… saying all of that… out loud…" Jim said, slowly.

Mccoy raised his eyebrows and nodded, expression dripping with "Yep. Sorry, boy. Glad I'm not you right now."

Kirk slowly dragged his gaze to look at Spock, much in the way a scolded dog eventually comes to look at their owner after ripping a hole in the couch.

"Um…" Jim halted.

Spock cleared his throat.

"Captain, the…" Spock tried to find an appropriate, professional sounding word, but failed, "the... things… which you may or may not have said whilst under the influence of an alien intoxicant…"

Kirk cottoned on, and, in a flash of lucidity, finished his friend's sentence and line of thought.

"... are of course nothing more than the symptoms of … the… flower… thing…" He trailed off. "Just crazy ramblings. Meaningless."

"Indeed."

Spock met his Captain's gaze for a few moments, cheeks and ears flushing an appealing shade of green, before turning around and inspecting some notes on the Medical PADD positioned at the end of Kirk's bed.

Jim closed his eyes and winced.

"That's right, sonny Jim. You be a good boy and get some rest. You won't listen to your doctor, maybe you'll listen to your _father!_ "

" _Just ignore him. Ignore him. Just pretend that this never happened. They won't talk about it. I won't talk about it. It. Did. Not. Happen."_

Jim opened one eye.

"I said that out loud too, didn't I?"

Mccoy bounced on his heels and grinned. "Yup!"

 _ **The End.**_


	6. Captain's Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Captain's log: Stardate 7245.9. Having now completely recovered from the effects caused by consuming the native flora of Tsjaridia, we are now preparing to beam back down to the planet in order to renew peace talks and diplomatic negotiations. Despite the inconvenience of my short incapacitation, we have been assured that this has in no way negatively impacted upon our talks with the Tsjaridian people. It seems, in fact, that the Tsjaridians have taken my willingness to partake of their ceremonial offerings, despite the significant risks it posed to my own wellbeing, have placed us in higher standing than our Klingon counterparts, who refused.

Additionally, although unpleasant for myself, Doctor Mccoy and Science Officer Spock have been able to carry out a great deal of research on the flora of this planet and the chemical changes which it undergoes when ingested by a humanoid, namely myself. This research will provide the basis for a paper which the Doctor and Mister Spock intend to submit at the forthcoming Conference for Non-Sentient Floral and Faunal Life in the Beta Quadrant. I have myself been asked to chair a discussion at this conference. Not being a scientist or a medical man, I have declined. However, I do have one thing to say on the matter, which I am now recording for official documentation purposes.

To all future humanoid explorers, both of the Federation and otherwise, who intend to visit this fascinating, beautiful, planet, I merely offer this one piece of advice: _Please, don't eat the daisies..._


End file.
